Serve your inner demons some tea

The plain honest truth is,
We all live afraid
Afraid of not being loved,
Afraid that being in love will hurt,
Afraid we aren’t enough.

I used to lock my fears like monsters,
Away behind layers of iron doors
The slow steady scrape of their claws against steel shivered my bones
And when they escaped, my whole being beat like a drum under their attack.

Today I see my fears differently.
I see them one by one in a civilized parlor
With leather armchairs and lace curtains.
I call them by name and I pour them steaming cups from my best British tea set,
And if I am brave enough, at the end of our conversation,
I give them a hug and a kiss on their black scaly foreheads.

My fears are nice guys, when you get to know them.
I thought they wanted to freeze me solid,
But really they just want to warm me with that stinging feeling that reminds me I’m alive.

I pour them a cup of my tears and ask in my gentlest mother whisper,
“Would you like sugar with that?”

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